


You Broke Me First

by Matriaya



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, a little more tender railing, a little self loathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29001318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matriaya/pseuds/Matriaya
Summary: Kevin knows Carter will come to his hotel room as soon as he watches Carter break his stick against the goal.
Relationships: Carter Hart/Kevin Hayes
Comments: 18
Kudos: 149





	You Broke Me First

**Author's Note:**

> Carter had a not great game this week, and did actually break his stick in anger.  
> It's ok buddy, we're still rooting for you.
> 
> title from: "You Broke Me First" by Tate McRae (which I listened to on repeat when I wrote this.)

Kevin knows Carter will show up as soon as he watches Carter break his stick against the goal.

It’s an awful game against the Bruins. They lost 1-6. Kevin watches the whole game as Carter gets more and more tense with each puck he lets through, so he isn’t exactly surprised when Carter lashes out, but he is very surprised he does it in plain view of everyone.

Carter Hart is this weird zen rock, internalizing pressure and stress until it hardens him into a diamond instead of splitting him apart. But even diamonds crack under the right type of strain, and it’s bound to happen to Carter too.

It’s kind of beautiful, watching Carter explode like that. Just take his stick and destroy it, shouting his anger into the goal he failed to protect. 

It has been months since they hooked up last. COVID rules were a big deterrent, but also things were going well with the team, and Carter was feeling good about himself, about his game, about life. He hadn’t needed an outlet.

He sure as shit needs one now.

Kevin hears the knock on his door, quiet, so as not to attract attention. He was watching a documentary on Animal Planet, but switches it off before he goes to open the door. Carter won’t be here long. He never stays. 

Carter looks like a doll with its strings cut, hunched and small in the fluorescent hallway lights, doesn’t really meet his gaze, barely looks up from the floor, and Kevin steps aside wordlessly to let him in. 

The first time, they hadn’t talked at all. Kevin was the last one in the locker room, taking his sweet time because he didn’t particularly have anywhere to be, and he was pissed at all the shots he’d failed on, shots he didn’t take. He’d stood under the hot shower spray for a good five minutes after everyone else had cleared out. G had said something kind, an attempt at being uplifting, but Kevin had just stared, stone-faced at the tile and said nothing.

He hadn’t realized he wasn’t alone until Carter appeared at the stall entrance, wearing briefs and nothing else, and had wordlessly pushed into the stall, into Kevin, swallowed up all his surprise and shock. Kissed him under the hot spray, their mouths full of the harsh words they had for themselves and needed to put somewhere, but didn’t want to say out loud. 

Carter had put a thigh between Kevin’s legs, pushed them both against the wall, and rode Kevin’s thigh hard, hot fingers grasping too painfully into Kevin’s skin until they both came, harsh moans echoing against the damp tile.

They didn’t talk about it really. Didn’t even acknowledge it until the next time they lost spectacularly when Carter slipped Kevin his room key after team dinner, and Kevin had come up and wordlessly jerked them both off with a shitty action movie for ambience. 

It had become a pattern.

Not necessarily a healthy pattern, but a pattern that Kevin can now acknowledge he craves. 

The door clicks shut, and Carter is working the knot on his tie, tossing it angrily to the floor. Pulling at the buttons on his shirt. Like this is some sort of business transaction to get over with. Maybe it is for him, Kevin doesn’t know. 

He’s never seen Carter this worked up before. He gets self loathing, knows what it’s like to feel like the whole game was a fucking disaster because of himself alone, and he knows Carter internalizes all this shit, worse than anyone else he knows. 

Carter’s not even looking at him. Those beautiful blue eyes are fastened on the far wall as he methodically strips off all his clothes. 

When he finally makes eye contact with Kevin, it’s like staring into an ice box. Kevin’s fingers falter in their work on his own shirt. It’s never been this bad before. Like Carter is seconds from lashing out, or splitting apart. 

“Fuck me.” There is no warmth in the words, no affection. A command. 

Kevin is usually ok with the emotional detachment. He understands the need for emotionless, mindless sex, especially in their line of work, when tension is high and sometimes its hard to just let go, to rage.

Tonight it feels weird. It feels wrong. It feels more like Carter is trying to punish himself and use Kevin as his whip. 

Kevin runs a hand through his beard and looks at Carter, waits for something, anything to flicker across that perfect face. Nothing. He shakes his head.

“No, man, not tonight -” he starts. Carter’s hand is on his chest, pushing him forcefully, pushing him until he crashes against the door with a loud thunk. 

They aren’t supposed to see each other. No one is really supposed to socialize outside of games, to prevent the spread of COVID. If anyone caught them together, they’d be in trouble. Kevin doesn’t like to be in trouble. Carter doesn’t seem to give a shit though, because he crowds up against Kevin, looking so much taller than his six feet and two inches, and glares at him.

“I said fuck me.” 

His hand slides up Kevin’s chest until it reaches his throat, doesn’t quite wrap around it, but sort of rests at the base. His words are hard. Cold. 

“Fuck me, Kevin.” 

Kevin doesn’t need romance and flowers and shit. He is always down for some casual sex, especially with someone as hot as Carter, but he also really isn’t into fucking someone who doesn’t even seem to want him there. 

“Carter,” he starts. Carter shoves him with both hands now, even though he has nowhere to go, and the door rattles under his big frame. He grabs onto Carter’s biceps and swings them around so that Carter is pressed into the door, and only then does he get a small flicker of a smile. It’s not a nice smile. 

“Stop it,” Kevin growls. God, he wants Carter so bad it’s insane. He’s completely fucking naked, every inch of him is a glorious landscape Kevin knows he doesn’t deserve, but Kevin  _ yearns. _

Carter reaches down, palms Kevin’s already half hard cock through his sweatpants, and Kevin hisses, and lets go of him, steps away. 

“It’s a bad idea, Carter.” 

Kevin licks his lips as he stares down at Carter anyway, and Carter knows he’s won.

“I need more bad ideas in my life,” he says. He steps back towards Kevin, toes bumping against Kevin’s, and reaches up to grab a huge chunk of his hair. He yanks down hard, bringing their mouths close. “Now  _ fuck me.” _

Kevin throws Carter bodily onto the bed. He can feel Carter’s eyes hot on him as he strips off his t-shirt, his sweats, his boxers, kicks it all into a pile and then crawls on top of him. 

The first press of their mouths is raw heat, and they both groan. Kevin is relentless in his assault on Carter’s mouth, biting down on his bottom lip, sucking his tongue into his mouth, and each time he’s rewarded with a hiss of pleasure from Carter. 

Carter is not gentle with him. The fingers that dig into his back are fucking talons, scratching deliberate red marks into his skin that he will probably get heat for tomorrow, but the pain blends into pleasure. It’s always a pleasure with Carter. 

He waits until Carter is panting beneath him before he pulls away.

“It isn’t your fault, Carter,” he says. Kevin is playing dirty and he knows it. Knows it’s not fair to wait until he has Carter hot beneath him, starting to fray a little, but Carter started this fight dirty, so he doesn’t feel too bad about it. 

Immediately, Carter’s face hardens into the icy mask from earlier. Kevin leans down, places an open mouthed kiss against his neck, and then sucks hard, really hard, hard enough to guarantee a bruise. He grinds his hips down at the same time, dragging their dicks together, and little stars explode behind his eyes as he buries his head in Carter’s neck, and just moves. 

It feels good. It feels so fucking good he loses himself in it for a minute, in the slick slide of their skin together, in the way Carter can’t seem to release a full breath, just these hitched little panting noises, so beautiful.

“You’re so good,” Kevin murmurs against his skin, “so fucking good at hockey.”

It’s another pattern, one that he will perpetuate now. Compliment Carter, then counteract his rage pout with more pleasure. 

“Stop talking,” Carter hisses. “Suck my dick if you want to put that mouth to use.” 

Kevin is up and off him in a blink, and he gets to revel in Carter’s shock at the absence before he turns away to grab condoms and lube out of his bag. After their first hotel rendezvous, he always brings some, just in case. 

He drops them on the end of the bed, and then reaches up, and grabs Carter’s legs, hauling him down until his ass is near the end of the bed. It takes a lot to shake Carter. It’s part of his weird zen charm, he takes everything in stride and seems cool as a cucumber, which is why Kevin takes great pleasure in the continued look of shock that seems to plague Carter as Kevin drops to his knees, shoves Carter’s legs apart, and licks a hot stripe up his crease of his ass.

_ Weren’t expecting that, were you? _ He pointedly does not say. 

Instead, he lets his tongue run hot and heavy over Carter’s hole. Above him, Carter says his name, choked and rough, and then his head drops back into the rumpled duvet, and he gets a hand on Kevin’s shoulder and holds on for dear life as Kevin eats him out. 

Kevin loves this. Loves being between Carter’s legs, dragging filthy noises from his lips, staining his own mouth with the taste of him. He doesn’t want Carter to come yet though, so he pulls away, ignores Carter’s little whimper of protest, and slips the condom on, then lubes up his fingers to prep him.

Carter looks at everything in the room but him, eyes skating a fast pattern over the ceiling, the dresser, the too-bright lamps. Kevin fucks him open with two fingers, not being as gentle as he should be, but he knows it's not what Carter wants. When he finally gets his fingers out, Carter’s eyes settle on a point near his shoulder. Kevin reaches down and takes Carter’s chin between two fingers, forces him to meet his gaze. 

That obstinate heat returns. Good. Maybe it will melt the ice from earlier. 

“You’re amazing, Carter,” he says in a firm tone. Carter tries to look away, but he increases his pressure on Carter’s chin, and then pushes his dick inside with one firm thrust, and Carter’s whole back arches off the bed for a moment as he moans. 

As soon as Carter settles, Kevin speaks again.

“Look at me,” he commands. Carter wants to be punished? Tough fucking luck. Kevin will show him just how perfect he is, even if he has fuck it into him. Carter does as he’s told. He squirms a little, but Kevin thrusts in again, hard, keeps fucking into him holding his gaze.

“You’re perfect. So fucking beautiful. The best damn thing on that ice every single time.” 

He doesn’t let up, pushing in, yanking hard on Carter’s thighs when he starts to move up the bed. 

Every time Carter tries to look away, Kevin digs his fingers hard into Carter’s flesh, commanding his attention. 

“Watching you out there every night gets me so hot,” Kevin murmurs. “Best fucking goalie in the league.” 

Carter opens his mouth to protest, so Kevin bends over and kisses him, slowing his hips only long enough to push them both up the bed a little, and then he slips a hand into Carter’s hair and pulls hard. Payback for earlier? Just really hot? Who fucking cares.

He licks up the now exposed column of Carter’s throat, and nips his jaw. 

“Next games gonna be better,” Kevin says, mouth right up against Carter’s ear. “And the game after that. And the one after that, all the way to the cup, baby.” 

He can feel sweat dripping off him, onto Carter, and it’s kind of gross, but he is so far from caring it’s laughable. Carter’s legs are wrapped around him, and Kevin is pounding into him so hard the bed thumps loud against the wall. 

“Fuck, Kev,” Carter’s voice is this high pitched whine, and he reaches down between them and grabs his own cock, begins stroking it furiously, and Kevin fucking loses it, raising up on his arms and thrusting into Carter with everything he’s got, driving deeper, deeper, eyes closed, ready to leap off the fucking cliff and maybe just die here and then Carter comes, clenching hard on his dick, and he comes too with a shout that’s way too loud. 

It’s like the ocean roars in his ears, cacophonous, harsh, overwhelming, and when he finally can hear again, the first thing he takes in is the sound of Carter’s heart, beating fast in his chest.

He presses his ear against the sound, and lets the slowing beat ground him. 

Kevin knows he’s heavy, and sweaty, and there’s cum trapped between them from where Carter shot all over his own chest, but it feels too good, laying here. 

He manages to crawl as far as Carter’s shoulders, and then collapses down at his side. 

“We are going to be in so much trouble with G,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. Beside him, Carter snorts.

“Yup,” he says. “Worth it though.”

Carter’s voice has it’s warmth back, and Kevin looks over at him. Tries not to gawk openly at how beautiful he looks; red, and sweaty, and so  _ alive. _ Carter reaches down, takes one of Kevin’s hands, and laces their fingers together, then presses them to his lips for a moment.

“Thank you,” he says. Those two words contain multitudes, all the things he is too fucked out and exhausted to actually say. 

Kevin half rolls onto his side and kisses him. It’s uncoordinated, the kiss not quite landing right, and then he’s too tired to keep himself in that position, so he flops onto his back again. 

Carter curls himself into Kevin’s side, lets his head settle on Kevin’s sweaty chest and closes his eyes.

He’ll stay the night.

He’ll leave early in the morning, sneak out before any of the rest of the team is up to catch him, but tonight he’ll stay. 

For the first time all night, all week even, he feels hopeful for the future, and that’s something worth staying for.

  
  
  
  



End file.
